Friday, February 6, 2009

So over snow

The snow at the beginning of the week was lushly beautiful. A bright white light that lasted into the night when it reflected the moon on slivers of tree branches. The world stopped still - no buses, no trains, no people, just a few snowmen. ("All of which have cans of lager in their hands - you've got to love Acton," a friend wrote to me.)

But in town, the disadvantage of snow took the romantic edge off it pretty quick. No work, no school. No rubbish collections, no post. Every meeting backed up and everyone feeling weirdly like it's christmas again and consequently unable to work properly at all. Frozen dog turds. Pavements of solid ice. Sandy grit that melts the snow to sludge and has the colour and texture of sick. Hunter wellies look frankly ridiculous in town and harrassed men are at the local swimming pool wondering what the hell they're doing there on a Tuesday afternoon instead of being nice and cosy at work. Snow is for the countryside. Vast white landscapes that make us think of Russia, vodka and philosophy (I've been reading Kafka this week, which turned out to be beautifully timed with with the weather).

Still, it could be worse. It will be much harder to be depressed about the recession when it's summer. Let's see how we cope then...

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